Everything is destroyed. The sound system is just a sad pile of junk. My flat-screen TV has a hole the size of a soup plate. The dining table has been knocked over, and my clothes were ripped out of the lockers. They didn’t even leave the bedding intact. And the Kawasaki, which I was eager to repair until a few minutesago, was knocked off its stand. The mirrors: kicked off. The tires: slashed. The tank: dented.
I turn away and go to Sophie’s room. Her things have also been thrown out of the closet and dresser, and the small TV has simply been thrown on the floor.
It’s obvious what Steve is after. He knows damn well that I wouldn’t have given him a single fucking dime of the money he thinks I owe him. That’s probably why he waited for me to leave so he could go looking for it himself.
Since he didn’t find it up here, he must be in the basement because the first floor was empty. But the lower level with its many pipes and dark corners is actually worth a try.
I don’t know if I should be relieved that he won’t find anything there either. Only a complete moron would keep large amounts of cash in his own house when he runs in the circles I do. The nearly five hundred grand I’ve put aside over the years is spread over three places, so it’s safe. But that means Steve is probably extremely pissed off by now.
I’m about to reach for the gun that should be tucked in my waistband, but my fingers grasp at nothing because all the euphoria has made me careless. Since I’m pretty sure I won’t find any of my weapons in the locker where I keep them, I don’t bother checking. Instead, I head back downstairs, where I finally hear them. At least two voices reach my ears from the basement—and they don’t sound very pleased.
Anyone with common sense would probably make a run for it. He’d get the hell out of here and just wait for Steve and his henchmen to disappear again. But I’m not a coward, and this ismy fucking house. So I’ll be damned if I’m going to just turn tail. This motherfucker needs to learn to stay the fuck away from me, so I’m going downstairs to make sure he gets that.
THIRTY-NINE
SOPHIE
I can clearly feel that something’s wrong. Cole has been gone far too long, and the expression on his face when he left was more than worrying. But I promised him I would stay here, and I don’t want to break that promise again. Even if I did—what could I possibly do? I’m barely up to his chest. I probably wouldn’t stand a chance against whoever’s in the warehouse. But with every passing minute, my concern for Cole grows.
I consider calling the police until I realize that I wouldn’t even know what number to dial because I simply don’t knowanything.I’m not only completely helpless, but also absolutely useless.
When another five minutes have passed and I am just about to go against Cole’s order, he comes running around the corner. He’s holding his left arm with his right hand as he bleeds from a new wound on his cheek. I gasp and unlock the truck just in time before he gets to the passenger side and yanks open my door.
"Move over," he instructs me through clenched teeth.
"What?"
"Move over!"
I follow his command on autopilot, as his voice leaves no doubt about how serious he is, nearly breaking my neck in the process.
"What happened?" I ask in alarm as Cole throws himself into the passenger seat.
Without answering, he looks in the direction he came from, pressing his arm to his torso. "Can you drive?"
Completely caught off guard by his question, I don’t even know how to answer. "I… I don’t know…"
"Can you drive a car, Sophie?" he asks, finally looking at me.
I pull myself together and shake my head. "No."
Cole catches his breath, his face contorting in what seems to be pain, before he makes a nod toward my legs. "Put your right foot on the left pedal and turn the key."
He can’t be serious.
"Cole, I?—"
"Just do what I’m telling you," he demands in a harsh tone.
"But—"
His gaze becomes insistent as he fixes me with his grays. "Do you trust me?"
What an odd and, at the same time, completely pointless question. Of course I trust him. I would trust Cole with my life. He should know that by now.
"Yes," I answer in a calmer voice.
"Then put your foot on the pedal and turn the goddamn key, darling." He stares at me as if he’s trying to hypnotize me.
